


Betting It All

by blueberryfallout



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9626189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberryfallout/pseuds/blueberryfallout
Summary: Still, he snakes his arm around Dick’s waist, feeling the firm muscle there, pulling him closer. Dick’s eyes pop wide for one satisfying second, taken by surprise as Jason leans in, whispering, “No matter how much we win tonight, the best prize is always you, my darling.”He gets Dick laughing, the ugly kind he only uses when he can’t help it, pushing Jason away so he can bend over. “Oh myGod, Jay. Do you actually use those lines?”“Nah, of course not. Usually it’s something more along the lines of ‘get on your knees and take my cock’.” He hears Dick choke, grins, and leaves the room, calling over his shoulder, “C’mon, we wouldn’t want to be late!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ayyyy lmao i mean who doesn't love the fake dating trope? it's personally one of my favorites and I've never written a story with dick as one of the focal points and ofc it's p obvious by now that i'm obsessed with jason todd so here we go! enjoy

“You and I need to have a serious talk.” 

Jason looks up from his puttanesca, meeting Dick’s big, Disney prince eyes, and groans, wiping viciously at his mouth. “What do you want, Dickie?” He’s running over reasons in his head: was rude to the demon spawn, killed one dude who he was _positive_ none of the family knew about, got really drunk with Roy and ended up making out with him. Kind of weird if that’s why Dick’s here; he’s never been shy about sharing his exes before. Jason just wants to enjoy his overpriced pasta in peace, and people in the restaurant are beginning to stare. “Sit _down_ ,” he hisses, tugging at the edge of Dick’s shirt, the fabric thin. His knuckles brush the smooth skin of Dick’s hip and he yanks his hand back, putting it in his lap.

Dick sits anyway, petulant in that pretty boy way only he can pull off. “We need to talk,” he says again. 

“Okay.”

“I need your help.” 

That’s a new one; things with the family are getting better, but still raw enough that he doesn’t get called in to specialize often by anyone but Babs, who works with everyone. He doesn’t want to bring up the chasm between them though, so he just nods. “Alright.” If Dick’s surprised by this easy acquiescence, he doesn’t let it show. “With what?” 

“Bruce has been following gun running under this guy named Luciano Martelli, a real nasty character.” Who says things like ‘a real nasty character,’ Jason wonders. Only Dick. 

“Uh huh.” 

“So he owns a hotel/casino and Bruce wants us to dig up some evidence.”

“And you think I’d be good for that why?” Jason’s alright at investigation, but he’s not _Tim_ , he doesn’t have that voyeuristic eye for detail that can’t be taught. “Why don’t you bring Tim?”

Dick’s flushing under the gold of his skin, which is interesting enough that Jason feels a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth. “I can’t. There’s, uh, another part to it.” Now Jason’s curious, tilting his head in interest, pasta forgotten. He can bring it home, have it for leftovers tomorrow. “We’ll be staying at the hotel as, um. As a couple? Apparently it’s a honeymoon kind of place and Tim’s too young and well, so are the girls and Babs just laughed when I asked her.”

Jason can _feel_ his ears turn bright red, prickling hot all over. “ _What?_ ” 

“It’s just for a week! Two weeks at most! If we don’t have the evidence by then we can give up.” Dick’s looking anywhere but at him, hands waving, eternally unable to sit still. 

“Okay.” 

Dick hesitates, stops whatever babbling he was going on about, looking hopeful. “Okay?” 

“Yeah, sure, I’ve always wanted to date you.” Jason winks, trying to hide how true that really is, how desperately he pined after Dick as Robin and after he came back, though he’s better about it now. He thinks. The Lazarus Pit is whispering in the back of his head, about opportunities to get his hands on Dick’s skin, and he pushes them aside, used to it after a couple years of practice. “When do we start?” 

“Um. Tomorrow. Reservation for six.”

Jason scrubs his hand over his face, thinking; he doesn’t really have anything to put on hold, or in storage. He should probably tell Roy and Kori that he’ll be out of contact for a bit, though. “Alright. Meet at my place for five?” Dick nods, relaxed now that he’s gotten his way, probably. Jason’s willing to bet that _his_ stomach isn’t a bundle of worms, squirming all over each other and making him sick in an excited sort of way. 

“See you!” Dick says, getting up from the table and loping away, the eyes of everyone in the restaurant following him. Jason grunts and calls for a waiter.  
++++  
It’s not until they’re actually in the hotel room that Jason realizes there’s only going to be one bed. Which was so obvious that he feels like an idiot for not thinking of it. Dick’s already put their bags on the floor in the first room, sprawling out on the bed, kicking his shoes off, his shirt riding up to his ribs. 

The bedroom, when Jason manages to think objectively, is luxurious, thick carpets, a window looking out on the better parts of Gotham, the gloss of it. The bathroom has gotta be _amazing_. “Well, here we are,” Dick says to the ceiling, then sits up, his abs flexing.

Jason tears his gaze away, still stuck standing awkwardly in the doorway, bag in hand. It’s the only important one; it has his helmet and his gear, the plates of armor forced to fit. “It’s nice,” he says weakly. 

“It better be. It costs $15,000 a night.” Jason chokes on his own spit, never quite able to get over the casual wealth Bruce throws around. “Relax, Jay,” Dick says, reading his mind. Jason makes a face, turning away to put his bag on the nightstand, strolling around to examine the rooms, _rooms_ , that make up the suite. 

The tub could fit him, Dick, and probably, like, Bane, too, Jason thinks, awed. Everything is marble or silk or gold, the chairs in the living room sinking easily under his weight as he runs his fingers over the intricately carved wood of their arms. There’s even a kitchen, if for some reason Jason wouldn’t want to order from the 24 hour butler service. “How’s it look?” Dick calls from the bedroom, so Jason heads back to him, leaning his shoulder against the doorway. 

“It’s alright.” 

He gets one of Dick’s huge smiles in return, eyes almost slit, Jason biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from returning one just as wide and even sillier. “You mean, it’s awesome.” He gets up, heading to the desk and opening his laptop, bringing up their case notes. “So, we’ll be in the casino tonight,” he starts, all business, slipping into Nightwing like he never left. “We’ll just be gambling and looking around for anything shady.” 

“And if we see something shady?”

Dick shrugs one shoulder. “Then we look into it.” Jason slips a few Batarangs into his boot, figuring it can’t hurt to be careful. Dick steps up close to him, letting their fingers brush. They’re almost at an even height, Jason maybe an inch or so taller but wider, bulkier, built for strength and not flexibility. He’s never seen this look on Dick’s face before, this sultry, warm thing that makes Jason feel like there’s caramel in his bones, melting. “You ready to go, babe?” 

Jason shakes himself: fake boyfriends, right. He doesn’t actually get this from Dick, and he would never force it. Still, he snakes his arm around Dick’s waist, feeling the firm muscle there, pulling him closer. Dick’s eyes pop wide for one satisfying second, taken by surprise as Jason leans in, whispering, “No matter how much we win tonight, the best prize is always you, my darling.”

He gets Dick laughing, the ugly kind he only uses when he can’t help it, pushing Jason away so he can bend over. “Oh my _God_ , Jay. Do you actually use those lines?” 

“Nah, of course not. Usually it’s something more along the lines of ‘get on your knees and take my cock’.” He hears Dick choke, grins, and leaves the room, calling over his shoulder, “C’mon, we wouldn’t want to be late!”


	2. Lucky

The casino is lavish in an ugly sort of way, too much fake gold and weirdly patterned carpets, people milling around in outfits that cost hundreds, flirting and smiling and freaking out when they lose at poker. Jason’s never been very good at gambling; he’s not particularly lucky, no surprise there.

As soon as they walk in Dick threads his fingers through his, calluses on his palms from the escrima sticks in slightly different places than Jason’s own. He really, really hopes his hands aren’t sweating, choosing to lean into Dick, bending to whisper, “Where do we start?”

Dick makes a considering noise, scanning the room; Jason examines his face in the lights of the casino, that weird sugary feeling in his chest that he always gets when he stops to realize how beautiful Dick is. “Slot machines,” Dick finally decides, tugging Jason in their direction. He settles at a garish one modelled after some fantasy series Jason’s never heard of, dragons snarling from behind dollar signs as Dick cracks his knuckles. “Keep an eye out for me?”

Jason squeezes his shoulder once, looking around. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, just a couple hundred people trying their luck, dressed to the nines and richer than…well. Jason supposes they’re not richer than he is, if he’s got Bruce’s money behind him right now.  
Enthralled in an argument a couple machines over, a man and a woman with huge hair pushing at each other, on the verge of a brawl, Jason almost doesn’t notice Dick calling his name, til there are fingers in and tugging on his belt loops.

He looks down at Dick and swallows, the Pit madness insidious, telling him to slide his fingers into Dick’s mouth, hook his jaw open. _Really_ not a good time to get hard, he reminds himself. “What?” he snarls, softening it after a moment’s thought. “I mean, um, do you see something?”

“No,” Dick says, grinning. “I just won jackpot.” Jason stares down to where there are quarters pouring from the machine, a seemingly endless glittering stream, and rolls his eyes. Fucking typical.  
+  
Dick’s only won a thousand bucks; Jason can’t believe he’s gotten to the point where a thousand bucks doesn’t seem like much. They cash out and head to dinner, Dick smiling and hanging off his arm, a warm weight that’s more reassuring than he wants it to be. 

They end up at a five star restaurant where Jason shifts uncomfortably, hating the quiet, the soft murmur of voices. Dick is just as bad, and he wonders if either of them will ever be truly comfortable with the elegant life Bruce raised them for. Probably not. 

They make small talk, about the job, about Dick’s actual, sporadic job as a cop, about the family. Jason tries to keep away from any sore points, namely Bruce. He thinks he’s doing alright until Dick sighs, halfway through his filet mignon, fork buried in the pinkest part of it. “We can talk about Bruce if you want to, Jay.” Jason needs to remember that for all his cheer, he can’t fool him. Dick’s just naturally optimistic, he’s not an _idiot_. 

“I _really_ don’t want to,” he answers, pushing his shrimp around his plate, suddenly not hungry. 

Dick kicks him lightly under the table, and when Jason looks up he’s smiling. Jason wonders if his heart will ever stop beating a little faster at the sight of it. Judging from all these years, it never will. “Then we don’t have to.”  
+  
After dessert, after several torturous minutes of Jason watching Dick lick whipped cream from his fingers, they head back out and separate, Dick going back to the slots and Jason trying poker, reading faces. 

He’s pulled in a tidy sum by the time Dick comes up behind him, pressing close to his back, winding his arms round Jason’s waist. He stiffens for just a moment before forcing himself to relax into Dick’s chest, tilting his head to accept Dick’s kiss on his cheek, feeling his ears flush red and hoping his skin’s dark enough to hide it. He’s nowhere near as dark as Tim or Bruce, but he can hope. 

“How’re you doing, babe?” 

“I’m winning, sweetums,” Jason says under his breath, hearing the snigger Dick hides in the back of his neck and smiling himself. 

“I expected nothing less.” Jason unfolds the cards in his hands; he’s lucky he’s not that good at poker, doesn’t want to risk attention. “When you’re done here, come join me in our room,” Dick says, suggestive, a slow curl of heat snaking its way down Jason’s spine. 

He coughs to hide it, getting another kiss on the cheek from Dick before he’s gone, the eyes of everyone at the table following him and then snapping back to Jason, impressed. He gives them all a smug grin and lays his cards down.  
+  
After about forty five minutes Jason heads back to the room, figuring that 3 am is late enough; if he hasn’t seen anything suspicious by now, he isn’t going to for the rest of the night. 

The hotel is quiet as he pads back to his room, slips through the door and toes his shoes off, calling softly, “Dick?” There’s no response, so he assumes Dick’s asleep, starts tugging off his clothes. He sleeps in boxers, Dick’ll just have to deal with that. 

After brushing his teeth, throwing water on his face, he steels himself to head into the bedroom, the window open, Dick shirtless and on his side facing away. Jason examines the curve of his hip, lit by the moon, feeling apprehension coil in his belly. Why did he think he could do this, get this close to Dick without making an ass of himself?  
He’ll mess up, stammer something stupid, get pushed stumbling out of the family, his fault again. The Pit’s whispering, telling him to kill them all, get rid of the most important one first, and he swallows back fear. He’s not some Pit mad monster anymore.

Dick stirs as he slides in behind him, careful not to touch, somehow still ends with Dick’s sleepy limbs octopused all over him. “Jay?”

Jason slides his hand up the warm skin of Dick’s back, unable to resist, breathing in coconut shampoo and the glue they use to keep their masks on. “Yeah, Golden Boy?” he says into Dick’s hair. 

“Cold,” Dick says, nose in his neck, Jason forcing himself not to tense all over; Dick’s physically affectionate, he doesn’t mean anything by this.

“Sorry,” Jason apologizes, making no move to pull himself away. What can he say? He’ll take what he can get. Dick makes a soft noise before he’s asleep again, still tangled up in Jason, who sighs, resigning himself to about two weeks of this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god this is just pure fluff it's so relaxing to write more to come!


	3. Fun Dip

Jason wakes up tangled around Dick. He’s had dreams like this, but usually they were more naked and Dick was moaning in his ear and also Jason didn’t have the caramel sweet _besotted_ feeling in his chest, crawling up to his throat. Dick’s still out, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks, and of course he can’t even be ugly like this, splayed out sleep-warm with half his body on top of Jason’s, head on his heart. 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Jason whispers, letting himself be gentle since Dick’s asleep, tucking a strand of silk soft hair behind his ear. Dick stirs, eyelids fluttering open, takes a second to realize where he is, pushing his nose into Jason’s chest. If he notices how Jason’s heart beats a little faster, he doesn’t say anything. 

After a moment, he jolts, all his warmth gone in an instant as he scrambles away and Jason clenches his fists to keep from reaching for him. “Ugh, Jay, I’m sorry.” 

Jason summons up a smirk, lazily looking Dick over. “I know I’m incredibly attractive, Dickie, but try to resist.” Dick flushes all the way down to his chest, which Jason already knew he did but it’s nice to see anyway. He turns away and Jason takes the opportunity to leer at his ass and thighs, his bare back. Thank God for acrobats.

“So, what’re we up to today?” Dick asks, heading to the bathroom across the suite, his voice fading. Jason gets up and pads after him, watching as he washes his face, starts getting ready for the day. 

Jason squints at the sun, which is at its highest point, neither of them being much for waking up early. “Hn. I was gonna go back to bed.” He likes the thought of sleeping til they have to go out again, enjoying sheets with a ridiculously high thread count and maybe room service when he gets hungry. He briefly entertains the fantasy of Dick wearing only an apron and making pancakes before he shakes that thought away, waiting.

“Nah, we’re going to the pool,” Dick says decisively, slicking his hair back for a second before it bounces back, all springy curls. 

“I don’t have a swimsuit.” 

“Alfred packed one for you. He knows your size.” Of course he does. If Alfred was Batman, crime in Gotham would be completely eradicated.

“Don’t wanna go,” Jason sighs, seeing how this is gonna go but trying to protest anyway. 

Dick gives him a sad look, the kind he’s more used to seeing on Tim’s face. “You can’t brood all the time, Jay.” 

“I don’t _brood_.” He takes a step forward, looming without really thinking about it; he knows he’s built all shoulders, able to muscle in and get personal, just a smidge bigger than the rest of the family. 

Dick takes it with an eye roll, a casual, “Chill, Little Wing,” and goes back to brushing his teeth.  
+  
An hour and one delightful glimpse of Dick’s bare ass later, Jason has been forced into his garishly patterned swimsuit and to the pool, where Dick sprawls out, golden, on a beach chair and tans as Jason sits near his head, glowering. “This is _dumb_ ,” he mutters, petulant, glowering even more at Dick’s chuckle and the murmur of, “Childish,” that follows it. 

“Why are we doing this?”

“Keeping up cover,” Dick says, closing his eyes against the sun coming in through the glass roof and absently running his fingers through Jason’s hair, twisting the white streak. Jason stiffens, trying to pretend that every nerve in his body hasn’t just come alive. “We’re young and hopelessly in love, remember?” 

It would be hard for him to forget. So he takes Dick’s hand and kisses his palm, the thin skin on the inside of his wrist, taking some pleasure in the hitch of Dick’s breathing. Jason can romance, when he wants to. “Of course, pichoncito,” he says, sickly sweet, examining the deck for any criminal activity. The only thing that seems illegal is some of the swimsuits, and the looks Dick’s getting; lustful, baffled, like they can’t believe someone so beautiful is actually real. He wonders what they’d think if they saw Kori. 

It’s warm in here, artificially, a little steamy like on the island with Kori and Roy. Jason lets himself drift, leaning his head into Dick’s hands, trusting, almost taken by surprise when Dick whispers, “Jay?” 

“Hmph?” he grunts, shaking himself awake to look where Dick’s pointing subtly, at a woman with a deep tan who’s draped herself over the bar, bored. 

“I know her. She’s married to one of Martelli’s top guys.”

“Maybe she’s just enjoying the perks of the hotel?” Jason teases, getting to his knees. “What’re you thinking?” 

Dick shrugs, overheated enough that he’s started glistening. Jason licks his lips and hates himself for agreeing to go on this mission. “Bug her room when she’s out of it, follow her around. The usual.” Spying on and stalking a woman. _The usual_. God, his life is weird. 

“Sounds good, Dickie.”  
+  
Dick stays at the pool while Jason heads for her room, skulking, keeping a careful eye out for any cameras. The room their mark is staying in is just a step down from theirs, smaller, a makeshift bed on the floor created from pillows and extra sheets; if she’s here with her husband, their marriage must not be very good.

The whole room smells like strong perfume, wine lingering underneath, two of the chairs overturned. If they’re running guns, there’s not evidence, just lots of clothes from the shops in the casinos. Jason leaves a few cameras behind anyway, constantly checking his phone for a warning text from Dick. It’s a burner phone, none of them being stupid enough to carry a real phone on an undercover mission.

By the time he’s done an hour has gone by and Dick has company when he returns; there’s a woman around Leslie Thompkin’s age rubbing oil onto his back, an expression on her face like a smug cat. Jason’s hands fist as Dick gets to his elbows and waves, beaming. “Jay! Hi! Marta here was just telling me about her son. He’s only a few years older than us.” 

“Interesting,” Jason plays off, smiling at her, watching her interested gaze dip to his collarbones and lower. Feeling jealous, he bends to kiss Dick’s forehead, tasting sunscreen. 

“He’s a businessman,” Marta says proudly, her hands sliding just a bit too far towards Dick’s ass. “For the NRA,” she continues, and now things are getting interesting.

“Oh, he sells guns? What kind?” Jason asks, settling in for a conversation that will hopefully reveal some answers, spreading a possessive hand over Dick’s ribs. At least today isn’t all bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens! and there kind of is plot in this one! which i never do so this story has been a struggle for me


	4. Pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw man i feel like dick is the type to immediately try to act on his feelings while jason is the type to pine FOREVER. also this is my first time writing from dick's pov and probably the last because i find it hard to write from the pov of a character that i don't see myself in/a character who i see as very pure. anyway hope you enjoy! thanks :)

Sometimes Dick wonders if Jason means to be oblivious, or if he’s just naturally like that. “Do my back, Jay?” he asks, artfully arching to best show off how his spine can curve as Marta walks away, having divulged way more information about her son than she probably meant to. 

Jay’s eyes travel down his body, leisurely, until Dick feels himself flush, imagines that gaze in another situation where he’s on his knees and Jason’s _watching_ him. “You’re not flexible enough to reach?” Jason asks, turning his gaze to the pool, squinting against the sun. 

Dick huffs, annoyed, wondering whether taking his cock out will clue Jason in. It’s been _months_ since Dick realized that maybe there was a reason he got really nervous every time he saw Jason, that thinking about Jason every time he jacked off was not normal, that waking up and wishing Jason was there across the breakfast table was something he used to do with Babs or Kori. And now, Dick doesn’t know how to cue Jason in besides getting his name on his forehead or changing the Nightwing blue to red.

“Jay, c’mon,” he groans, tossing the sunscreen at him, watching him catch it one handed without looking.

“Fine.” Jay’s smirk is fond though as he spreads his big hands over Dick’s shoulders, cool enough that Dick shivers, bending his head forwards as Jason’s hands slide to briefly cup his hips, right above his waistband. Dick’s skin prickles, coming alive as Jason squeezes once then lets go. When he rolls onto his back Jason is looking away again, his ears flushed deep red. 

“So, about the guns,” Dick starts, fed up with trying. Jason turns with an expectant look on his face, focused. Dick will take what he can get.   
*  
*  
Later, they go out to the casino again, Dick’s arm looped proprietorially around Jason’s waist, feeling the firm muscle there, the heat of him through the fancy suit. He leans up to whisper in Jason’s ear, disconcerted, as always, that Jason managed to gain an inch on him during the years he was dead, which of course reminds Dick that Jason died once, brings up the grief all over again. 

He squeezes a little tighter, asking, “What do you want to do first, babe?” 

Jason turns to him with a smile that’s sickly sweet, not the wide, fierce grin Dick knows. “I’m not sure, _beloved_ ,” he says, sounding so like Damian for a moment that Dick winces. 

“Ew, Jay.” 

“Tt.” Jason clicks his tongue, and now he _looks_ like Damian, surveying the casino with his lip curled, chin tipped up. “Grayson, this place is beneath me.” 

Dick can see Damian in him, all haughty pride, and laughs. “Stop, Jay. You’re freaking me out.” 

Jason slouches, back to himself all in an instant, slinging a heavy arm over Dick’s shoulder. “Same thing as last time?” 

“Only if you play the slots with me.”

“We both know I have shitty luck, Dickie-bird.”

Dick shrugs, overwhelmingly fond, steering Jason towards the machines. “I’ll be your luck.”

That gets him a groan and a, “Cheesy,” from Jason, but he’s smiling anyway.  
*  
*  
When they get back to the room Jason showers while Dick gets ready for bed; his skin still smells like sunscreen but he likes that, makes him think of summers at the pool with the Titans, although at the time Dick was the only member who actually needed sunscreen, and barely at that. 

Stripped down to his boxers, he rolls to his back, sitting up against the pillows with a hand on his stomach waiting for Jason to come out. Bruce is going to check in on them tomorrow and they barely have anything, just thin threads to the woman at the pool and Marta’s son, insubstantial. “Jay!” he calls right as Jason comes in the room, just a towel on his hips. Dick swallows once, averting his gaze, thinking that he’s _way_ too old to pop a boner over his crush in a towel.

“What?” 

“Just letting you know that Bruce is calling tomorrow.” 

The gets him a flat stare from Jason, unreadable, which is one of the most annoying things about him. He’s the most emotional member of the family, unless he doesn’t want to be. “Okay.”

“How do you feel about that?” 

Jason scratches the back of his neck, the muscles in his stomach pulling distractingly as Dick eyes the single drop of water curving down his chest. “I’m thrilled. I just love when Daddy calls.” He’s turning away to change into boxers, so he misses the face Dick makes, and then Dick checking out his ass. 

“I’m serious!” Sometimes Dick feels like he’s the only one in the family who expresses emotions, the glue holding them together. Then he remembers that’s Babs or Alfie and stays in his lane.

“I really don’t care,” Jason answers, sliding into bed, still smelling like the hotel’s fancy apricot soap, getting the pillow wet. He’s facing Dick, who examines the sharp edge of his cheekbones, his pretty mouth, and resists the urge to touch, slide his hand up the scarred curve of Jason’s side. He can only imagine how that would go; Jason freaking out and leaving, probably.

The moment is broken by Jason’s huge yawn, and Dick smiles. “Fine, Little Wing. I’ll let it go. Night.” 

“Night, Dickie,” Jason whispers, soft and unexpectedly fond, before rolling over. Dick lays awake for a long time after that.   
*  
*  
He jerks awake from ill-defined nightmares at three, unthinkingly reaches over for Jason. He’s sleep-soft, mumbling something in Spanish as Dick pulls him closer, needing skin on skin. Dick coils himself around him, breathing into the curls on the back of his head, already falling asleep when Jason shifts, mumbling, “Dick?” Jason turns so his head is tucked under Dick’s chin, arm slung over his waist. “Nightmares?” 

Dick, who is 100% positive that Jason would never do this if he was fully awake, is loath to disturb this tentative peace, murmuring, “Yeah, Jay.” 

There’s some indecipherable Spanish before Jason says, “S’alright, pretty bird. I got you,” and falls back asleep. He must not be able to feel Dick’s heart start pounding.


	5. We'll Keep Falling In Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter i'm really proud i got this one up!!! probably just one or two more before i wrap this story up. if anyone wants to toss me prompts/ships i might try them out haha i love that kind of stuff. enjoy :)

“Someone’s looking,” Dick says under his breath, never turning. Over his shoulder Jason can see a guy from security, his eyes firmly glued on Dick’s back, glaring a little. Since, as far as Jason knows, their cover identities haven’t done anything offensive yet, this sparks a certain amount of concern. 

“Follow my lead,” Jason whispers, softening his gaze, staring into Dick’s eyes like he’s found the universe there and not entirely sure how much he’s faking. 

Dick sways closer when Jason wraps his arm round his waist, tilting his face up and examining him for a second, almost hesitant, before covering Dick’s mouth with his own. Immediately it feels like he’s been shocked, shivers trailing down his spine as Dick gasps, Jason drinking the sound down and following it, tasting the plush inside of Dick’s mouth, the almost too sugar sweetness of him.

Dick’s fingers clench at his waist, Jason sliding his hand to the hair at the back of Dick’s head so he can move him how he wants, the urge to push Dick around a little always there. The soft whimpering noise Dick makes into his mouth could drive Jason to his knees; dangerous, he thinks to himself. Dick has always been dangerous. 

Nipping once at his lower lip, Dick pulls away, grinning, pink-faced and smug. “Are they gone?” The guard has turned away, uninterested, probably used to showy displays of affection. 

Jason has to clear his throat before he can speak, knowing the flush in his ears is trickling down his neck, telltale. “Uh, yeah. He’s gone.” 

Dick, apparently completely unaffected, grins again, saying louder, “Thanks, babe,” and kissing him one more time, quick but still completely devastating. Jason knew that if he ever let himself get this close to Dick it would fucking ruin him, he just didn’t know it would be this bad. 

He watches as Dick slips off into the crowd, looking freshly kissed and like everything Jason wants. And, he reminds himself, everything he can’t have.   
*  
Dick keeps touching his mouth; it’s like he can’t help it, feeling his lips swollen, hot, tasting a little bit like the cigarettes Jason _swore_ he quit. He’s almost dizzy with it, with how warm he’s running under his skin, how he can still feel Jason’s hands in his hair. It’s not _fair_. Jason had stepped back looking entirely unruffled besides the dent in his lower lip from Dick’s teeth, whereas Dick wants to spend the rest of his _life_ chasing the sound that Jason had made when their mouths met. 

 

“Meet me in a couple hours?” Jason asks, scanning the casino floor, used to the routine by now. Dick has a nasty feeling they’re not going to find anything, and even though he’s well out of the Robin days and been with Bruce for years, he still hates disappointing him. 

There’s no one he recognizes out on the floor, just tourists trying to get rid of as much money as possible, or the experts fleecing them. He’s having a hard time focusing, thinking of Jason’s hands on him, knowing they’ll be sleeping together later. He should’ve never gone on this mission, it was stupid of him to think this wouldn’t go south, that he wouldn’t fall even further for Jason. Like an _idiot_. He can hear Babs’ voice in the back of his head, that gentle mocking tone she uses with him, all hard won fondness after so many years together. “You’re eternally soft-hearted, Boy Wonder.” 

He can see Jason from here, weaving through the crowd, all big shoulders and cockiness, a street kid til the end. Dick waves, beaming. Jason blows him a kiss, winks, and turns away, back to the poker tables he always seems to end up at. And then Dick figures, what the hell, he might as well get the most out of this mission, and heads over to him.  
*  
*  
Jason doesn’t jump, barely, when Dick comes up from behind and slides his hands round his waist, digging his chin into Jason’s shoulder. He’s a warm weight against Jason’s back, plastered up against him and suddenly this poker game doesn’t seem so interesting as Dick bites at his ear, Jason swallowing the noise he wants to make.

“How’re you doing, babe?”

“Peachy keen, sugar plum,” Jason answers, dragging his chips in, grateful they’re running on Bruce’s money for this mission. He does okay, especially since he and Roy share the rent for their shitty apartment, but he’s certainly not going to be spending this much money on gambling any time soon. 

Dick huffs a laugh against the side of his neck before he’s sliding away again, back into the crowd. Jason, as usual, watches the eyes of everyone around follow him, and sighs.  
*  
*  
Tonight it’s Jason who goes to bed first, showers and savors the feeling of sliding into fresh sheets, still not used to luxury after all these years. He spends about an hour going over case files, frustrating, sensing the same from Dick cause they’re not getting _anywhere_ , no leads besides the vague ones from the pool, nothing to go on. If they have to go home with nothing…well. It won’t really be a waste. 

Jason touches his mouth, remembering, feeling butterflies in his stomach like he’s thirteen years old and getting to hang out with the great Nightwing again, though back then it was mostly hero worship. Now he knows Dick, knows he’s caring to a fault, that he’s a slob with weird dietary habits, how he looks when he’s sleeping or laughing or just hanging out with the family and somehow Jason loves him _more_. 

He rolls over, groaning, frustrated with himself. He should’ve insisted Dick bring Tim or something, maybe Duke even, although the kid’s young.   
Eventually he manages to fall asleep, fitful, waking up to Dick’s hand sliding up his bare back, soothing. “Hey, Little Wing.”

“Hmph.” 

“Can we talk? Tomorrow?” 

Jason’s awake right away, tongue tied, his skin prickling hot. “Uh, yeah. Of course.” Fuck. _Fuck_. Dick knows, he has to, and now he’s gonna try and let Jason down gently like the sweetheart he is, because of course. Jason doesn’t get this. He doesn’t _deserve_ this.

“Great. Go back to sleep.” Jason, of course, can’t, faking it til Dick’s breathing next to him evens out, and Jason can reach a hand across to touch his skin, taking what liberties he can while he still can. He fucks around on his phone the rest of the night, never able to sleep.


	6. Soul Searching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end! i included a lil bit of smut, it's kinda one of my first times so i hope you guys like it okay, and i hope you liked the story! thanks for reading :)

Jason gets up at six like a man going to his execution, untangling himself from Dick so he can pad over to his gear and start packing. At one point Dick wakes up, mumbles something about coming back to bed as the sun breaks over the horizon and illuminates him in gold. Jason has never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He waves Dick back to sleep and carefully fits his guns into their correct slots, closing the case when all is packed.

Anxiety feels like a weight in the pit of his stomach, to the point where he can’t stay in this room anymore. Instead, he heads to the bathroom and showers, examines himself in the mirror. Brown skin, eyes that are more green than blue after the pit, that weird bump in his nose after it got broken for like the tenth time. His hands are slightly too big for his body, always have been, and scarred at the knuckles. 

Jason’s never really seen a reason to complain. He wonders what Dick sees in him, if he’d ever consider...and then he immediately feels stupid, shaking his head. He’s not twelve. That thought over with, Jason heads for the pool.  
*  
*  
Dick wakes up to an empty bed, all of Jason’s stuff packed in the corner. He blinks muzzily and wonders why Jason is so ready to leave, when it’s only been a few days. He kinda thought they were bonding. 

Dick shrugs it off, choosing to get ready for his day, grab breakfast downstairs with a couple who are staring into each other’s eyes, murmuring jokes. He tells himself that he’s definitely not jealous, not at all. He totally doesn’t want to spoonfeed Jason yogurt and make him laugh til it comes out his nose. 

Jason doesn’t laugh much, not for real anyway. He has a ton of sarcastic laughs, angry laughs, even a villainous laugh or two. Regular laughter, not so much. Shaking that thought from his head, Dick puts his plates away and heads off to search for Jason.   
*  
He finds him at the pool, doing slow laps back and forth, apparently untired. Dick sits at the edge of the pool and waits, dipping his toes in the water. Jason’s panting when he returns, flushed down to his chest and across his broad shoulders. Dick bites his lip and _wants_ , watching a bead of water make its way from Jason’s hairline and to his chin. 

“What’s up, Dick?” Jason won’t meet his eyes for some reason, focused approximately at Dick’s collarbones, his face hard.

“Was just wondering where you went.” Taking liberties, Dick trails his hand along Jason’s shoulder, feeling warm, slippery skin. He pictures them in a different scenario, pressed together in the shower, Jason’s wet skin between his teeth, and summons up that thought in a filthy grin.

Jason swallows, drifting back with a quiet splash. “So, uh, I checked the files…” he starts, hesitating when Dick slips in the water to join him. 

There’s something appealing about making Jason blush and stutter, his eyes tracking all over Dick’s body. “And?” Dick asks, shivering. He had hoped the pool water would be a little warmer. 

“And I got nothing,” Jason admits, tipping onto his back. He stares at the ceiling for a while, face peaceful, til Dick shoves him under. He can’t help it, laughing as Jason splashes, spitting water when he makes it back to the surface.

Dick’s too busy giggling to fight as Jason’s big hands close around his waist and shoulder, lifting and tossing him into the deep end like he weighs nothing. There’s a big grin on Jason’s face that fades after a moment, the seriousness back from before. “Jay?”

“I’m gonna go in the sauna,” Jason mutters, lifting himself out of the water in a gorgeous display of wet skin and muscles, stalking over to the wooden door that hides the sauna. 

Dick hurries after him, about to demand an explanation. Jason runs so hot and cold, a mix of his natural temper and the Lazarus Pit. Dick just wants to _understand_. There’s a man in there though, a burly guy who brightens when he sees them, pulling a duffelbag out from under his seat. “You came! About time.”

Dick and Jason exchange glances through the steam, Dick not needing telepathy to read Jason’s raised eyebrow. “Uh, yeah,” Jason says, every piece of his body reading relaxed. “We made it.”

“Thank God,” the guy says, handing the bag to Jason; he grunts but takes the weight, hefting it over his shoulder. “Y’know, when Mr. Martelli decided to start running guns through the hotel guest’s luggage, I thought he was crazy.”

Dick chokes a little, disbelieving. Can it really be that easy? After all the work they’ve put into this? God, Bruce is gonna do that thing with his mouth that means he’s laughing but he’s too emotionally constipated to show it. Dick hates that look. 

“Right, yeah,” Dick says, giving the guy a wave as they run out of the sauna, bag of, presumably, guns in hand. “Holy shit.” He’s laughing a bit under his breath, jogging to keep up with Jason’s long strides. “That was easy.” 

“I can’t wait to tell Bruce.” Jason gifts him with a rare, beaming smile as they head back to the room, knowing the real gunrunners could show up at any moment. 

“And after that, we can talk,” Dick says, meaning that he can sloppily confess his love for Jason, possibly get rejected, and try to move on from there. 

But Jason’s whole face closes off, falling into Red Hood easy as anything, his knuckles turning white around the bag’s strap. “Yeah. Sure.”   
*  
Dick volunteers to contact Bruce when they get back to the room, still confused by Jason’s sulking. He pulls the modified laptop they use for communication onto his lap, waiting til Bruce shows up, familiar as the back of Dick’s hand; black skin, bags under his eyes, the wrinkles around his mouth that means he’s been working even harder than usual.

Dick sighs, fond. “Hey, B.” 

“Nightwing,” Bruce greets, nodding. 

“So, we got the intel. You’re not gonna believe how…” He launches into an explanation, and sure enough Bruce does the mouth twitch that means he’s laughing, has Dick grinning as well.

“Good work. I’ll gather more info off yours. Thanks, Nightwing.” A thanks from the great Bruce Wayne. Must be his lucky day. He signs off with a wave and goes to look for Jason, meaning to finally have that talk. But he’s gone, bags and all.   
*  
*  
*  
Jason Peter Todd is the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. It’s been two days since he realized he didn’t have the courage to be directly rejected by Dick and ditched him, ran out of the room and the hotel without a goodbye. Since then, he’s been holed up in his least favorite safehouse, being moody and watching shitty telenovas on Netflix. He does _not_ care and he is _not_ thinking about it.

He munches determinedly through another bag of the fancy organic chips that he only gets when he needs a splurge, watching as Pamela confesses to Violeta about Erick. At least his life doesn’t suck as much as theirs, he thinks, which of course is the exact moment Dick comes through his window. For a moment they just stare at each other, Jason with his mouth full of chips, as Violeta screams curses in the background. Jason can sympathize. “Um…” 

“Hey, Little Wing.” Dick stands to his full height, brushing nonexistent crumbs off his jeans. Jason’s pulse is hammering in his ears, skin prickling hot all over. He just. He did not think this through. He’s not ready for Dick to be here, watching him, in his home. One of his homes. His mind is static. “We need to talk.” 

“Or you need to get out of my place,” Jason snaps, resorting to grumpiness. 

“Jason, we will talk even if I have to hold you down.” That presents an interesting image that Jason ponders for a moment before he sighs and pauses his show. The mysteries of _Las munecas de la mafia_ will have to wait for another day. Dick settles next to him, giving off heat like a furnace as always. He runs hot. “You disappeared and it took me two fucking days to find you,” Dick growls. “Why?”

“Maybe I just didn’t wanna talk,” Jason says, staring mulishly ahead. 

“Really, Jay? You’re gonna pull that bullshit with me?” Dick grabs Jason’s chin, manhandling him til they’re face to face, Jason’s lips comically pinched. He snarls, pulling away to push Dick off the couch. In return, Dick shoves him back, crawling into Jason’s lap and smashing their mouths together.

For a moment it’s rough, Dick tugging at Jason’s hair, pulling his head back, until Jason makes a soft noise and opens up, grabbing Dick to fully get him in his lap. Dick grinds down right as he grinds up and the friction is enough to make his eyes roll into his head; when he comes back Dick is grinning ferally. 

“This is talking?” Jason rasps, grabbing Dick’s ass.

“No. This is me, ten seconds from sucking your cock.” 

Jason groans out a tortured, “God, I love you,” and freezes. 

“You do?” Dick has stopped all movement, which is _the worst thing ever_ , so Jason just nods, biting his jaw.

“Yes, yes, I have for years, please keep going.”

The smile that breaks across Dick’s face could bring Jason back from the dead again, this wide, sunny thing that crinkles Dick’s eyes at the corners. “I love you too, Jay.” 

Jason is turned on and in love and incandescently happy, burying his smile in Dick’s chest. The noise Dick makes when Jason bites at his neck is interesting enough to keep chasing, til Dick’s flushed red, rubbing off against Jason’s thigh. If thirteen year old Jason Todd knew this was in his future, he’d cream his shorts.

Dick’s full lips part easily around Jason’s fingers when he slides them between Dick’s teeth, touching the plush inside of his mouth. God, he’s so warm inside, Jason wants to bury himself there. “Open up for me, pretty bird,” Jason whispers; Dick makes a noise like he’s been punched in the gut and comes in his pants.

For a few seconds after he’s hazy, letting Jason slide his fingers away and lick at the inside of his mouth. Dick tastes almost overly sweet still, Jason sucking on his tongue, biting down. “ _Gee_ ,” Dick says eventually, which is just such a Dick thing to say that Jason laughs, leaning his head back. 

“What the hell, Dick?” Instead of answering, Dick just smiles and slides to his knees. Jason figures they can talk later.


End file.
